


through the years (we belong together)

by thunderylee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Minor Character Death, Multi, POV First Person, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-29
Updated: 2005-09-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 01:49:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12854127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: On Ron’s wedding day, the Trio reflect over the trials and tribulations their friendship has endured through the years, and how it ended up the exact opposite of what they expected.





	through the years (we belong together)

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for the triofqf 2005: 47. One of the Trio is getting married and the other two prevent them from going through with it.

> **Part One – Don’t Close Your Eyes**

_Don’t close your eyes_  
Let it be me  
Don’t pretend it’s him  
In some fantasy  
Darling just once  
Let yesterday go  
And you’ll find more love  
Than you’ll ever know

_~ Keith Whitley_

Ron Weasley stands in front of the full-length mirror in his parents’ bedroom, turning to either side to better examine his dress robes. His face is frantic, his body shaky, and he hasn’t stopped moving for the better part of an hour now.

I’ve been sitting in this chair the entire time. It’s quite a comfortable chair, actually, facing towards the mirror as though its entire purpose was to watch my best mate get ready for his special day.

I’m in my dress robes also, but mine are not nearly as extravagant as Ron’s. After all, it’s _his_ day. I just get to stand by his side as he makes the biggest mistake of his life.

As his best mate, it is my rightful duty to say something. Unfortunately, it’s a little more complicated than saying, “Hey man, I don’t think you should get married.”

Because I know he’ll ask, “Why?”

I can’t even begin to explain the answer to that question, at least not in a way that he would understand. I don’t even think _I_ understand it; all I know is that if Ron actually goes through with this, everything I’ve risked my entire life for will be gone.

Hermione says we’re being selfish, she and I. She says we should be happy that Ron finally found someone to love the way that she and I love each other. She says we’re just jealous, because we both want something we can’t have.

We want Ron.

Hermione will claim that she’s known this since we were eleven, but I only just realized it last year. I remember the exact moment – we were on our quest for Voldemort’s Horcruxes, and we came across one similar to the locket that Professor Dumbledore had found the year before. Similar in that one person had to sacrifice their health in order to be granted access. Both Ron and Hermione protested my offer to do it, insisting that I needed to be alive and well since that was our final Horcrux and the next step would be battling Voldemort directly.

Ron and Hermione bickered amongst themselves, each wanting to be the one to activate the Horcrux. Finally, they both turned towards me and said the words that still haunt me to this day:

“You pick, Harry.”

It was the hardest decision of my life, and I still don’t think I made the right choice. I picked Ron because he was physically stronger than Hermione and would recover more quickly. This proved true, but that’s not the point. We all made it out alive, but that’s not the point either.

The point is that I had to choose between Ron and Hermione in a matter of life or death. I chose Ron, which more or less meant that I valued Hermione’s friendship more. Ron may have never said those words, but I see it in his eyes. I saw it when I originally made my decision, and I’ve seen it every day since.

It didn’t help that Hermione and I got together shortly after Voldemort’s defeat. Everyone thought she would end up with Ron, including me. Our seventh year was spent dodging cruel stares and ignoring snide comments of betrayal as we rushed through the corridors hand-in-hand.

Ron didn’t mind, although that might have been because he was laid up in the hospital wing for most of the year. The potion protecting the final Horcrux had taken an extreme toll on him – he wasn’t even at the Final Battle, but only because Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t let him go. She nearly had to restrain him to the bed when he threw a fit of rage, kicking and screaming and _demanding_ that he be allowed to go, that he deserved to be there as much as Hermione did.

We agreed with him, but there was no changing Madam Pomfrey’s mind. I remember feeling a sense of emptiness as Hermione and I set off on our first-ever journey without Ron; ironically, it was also the most important. We had to wait outside for almost three days before I had an opportunity to fulfill my destiny, and it was in those three days that Hermione and I crossed the line between friendship and more.

Our first time was, in short, awful. She had been crying; she was scared, worried, and anxious. She kept saying, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

I held her tight for almost two days before it happened. I kissed her, and she kissed me back. The next thing I knew, we were losing our virginities to each other on a dirty blanket on the edge of the Riddle property. It was cold, messy, and awkward. I was rougher than I should have been, but she was rough right back. It was as though we could fuck our problems away.

When it was over, we didn’t speak until it was time to attack. All of my pent-up emotions and frustrations seemed to shoot out of my wand along with the killing curse, and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Voldemort was dead. As per our plans, the Order Apparated to the scene right away, dueling with the Death Eaters who chose to remain and fight for their fallen Dark Lord instead of fleeing or trying to redeem themselves.

Hermione and I left immediately, for our work was done. We went straight to the hospital wing to see Ron, who had been driving Madam Pomfrey crazy the entire time we were gone. We filled him in on everything, and we were just about to confess what had happened between us when a sobbing McGonagall burst through the door.

Tonks and Remus were dead. Charlie Weasley was dead. Draco Malfoy, who in a surprising change of heart had switched sides at the last minute and turned on his father – dead. Professor Snape, Hagrid, Kingsley Shacklebolt – dead, dead, dead.

There were also a large amount of Death Eaters killed in battle, but they were nowhere near important enough to care about at the time. In fact, we were more worried about the ones who had gotten away. Lucius Malfoy had gone down along with his son, though, so I suppose that was good news.

I remember sitting at Ron’s bedside, Hermione opposite me, all three of us reacting to the news in our own ways. Hermione cried, Ron got angry, and I was silent.

Somehow we made it through the rest of the year. Ron was granted special permission to leave the hospital wing to attend his brother’s funeral, but other than that, he was under Madam Pomfrey’s care until the middle of May. Hermione and I tried to keep him caught up on N.E.W.T. studies, but McGonagall decided that he was too far behind and would have to repeat the year.

Ron was _not_ happy about this. He got so irate that his mother had to floo in and physically drag him back to the Burrow. He wasn’t even at the Leaving Feast. That was probably a good thing, since spending the entire year with someone else as Keeper put Gryffindor in fourth place for the House Cup. But that didn’t matter to me anymore; after everything I had been through that year, an interschool competition paled in comparison to the fact that there were still Death Eaters on the loose trying to pick up where their master had left off.

Neither Hermione nor I heard from Ron after he went home. We figured he was mourning his brother, upset that he had to take seventh year over again, or mad that we lost the House Cup. Ginny corresponded with us regularly, keeping us updated on Ron and the rest of the family as well as what was going on in her life and at school. I remember getting an owl from her about a new boyfriend and vaguely recalling the fact that we used to date. It seemed like a million years ago, when times were better, different.

Hermione and I live together now. Ron knows about us, and according to Ginny, he doesn’t care. He understands that there was never a good time to bring it up, and besides, there were much more important things going on. Hermione was elated to hear this and raved about how much Ron had matured. I agreed to an extent, but it still bothered me that he hadn’t so much as sent an owl since he left Hogwarts. Ginny claims he was very busy over the summer building up his strength and getting a head start on his studying, and he spent the entire year with his nose buried in books.

I wanted to believe that. I wanted to believe that once he was done with school, we would be friends again. I missed him terribly; both Hermione and I did. Even while he was in the hospital, we spent as much time as possible with him. When Madam Pomfrey would kick us out, Hermione would sneak me into her Head Girl room and we’d stay up all night reminiscing about all the good times the three of us had together. Then we would fuck.

She’ll back me up on this. We did not make love, we did not have sex; we _fucked_. Just like the first time, it was always hard and rough, quick and dirty. Somehow, by some twisted form of logic, it made everything better. For that brief period of time we were overcome by hormones, we forgot about everything else. We didn’t worry about Ron or Death Eaters or our confused feelings. While I was inside her, all that mattered was getting off. Prolonging the release, extending the oblivion, giving in to the pressure.

I’ve learned that a mind is most clear after orgasm. That was when Hermione and I would just lie awake and _think_. We would attempt to sort out our emotions and try to make sense out of the mystification that our hearts were throwing at us.

We were _not_ a happy couple. We’re still not. We’ve been together for almost two years and I don’t know why. I suppose it could be considered a relationship of convenience, but I do love her. And she loves me. It’s just not enough. As she says, “We’re incomplete.”

That explains everything and nothing at the same time. I can imagine spending the rest of my life with her, getting married and having children, but there’s always been something else – _someone_ else, a third person in the picture of perfection that lies in the back of my mind.

Ron.

I remember the first time I admitted that I loved him. Hermione confessed first, on yet another lonely night lying in my arms after we had both escaped from reality once more. She sighed and said, “If Ron had been there, it wouldn’t have happened that way.”

At first I thought she meant that it wouldn’t have happened at all, so I agreed and went on to say that we’d still be friends, the three of us, and it would be like nothing had changed.

“No, Harry,” she said gravely. “We’d be _together_.”

“That’s what I said,” I insisted.

“No,” she said again, shaking her head and choking back a sob. “The three of us would be together, like you and I are now. Only it would be more… everything. Utopia.”

“Utopia,” I repeated.

“Yes,” she said firmly, staring off into space like she always did.

It was at that moment that everything clicked in my brain, and I could almost hear this newfound information coming together and processing. Or more like it was being dug up from the depths of my soul, something I might have already realized or perhaps even known all along, buried to remain for all eternity because –

“That’s not bloody possible!” I exclaimed, sitting straight up in bed, half aware of the reasoning behind my sudden denial. “Three people cannot have a romantic relationship. It’s unheard of!”

Hermione shook her head again and bit her lip.

“You’re wrong.”

Slowly, I lowered myself on my back and stared at the ceiling.

“You’re right.”

She grabbed my hand and started crying.

“Oh my God, Hermione, you’re right,” I said again, speaking out loud as though I needed to vocalize my thoughts in order for them to sink in. “All this time, it’s always been the three of us. From the very beginning, even. I can’t imagine being intimate with Ron, though – or maybe I can. I’ve never really thought about it. I’m not gay, but I do love Ron, the way that I love you. Does that make sense?”

Hermione sniffled. “Perfect sense.”

“I didn’t want to choose, you know.”

“I know.”

“I had to.”

“I know.”

“And my decision wasn’t based on who I loved more, or whose friendship I valued more, or who I wanted to live as opposed to dying.”

“I know, Harry.”

“I couldn’t choose, Hermione. Given the chance again, I still couldn’t. I chose based on the facts – which one of you would be most likely to survive after drinking the potion. You saw what happened to Ron; you would have died.”

“I know,” she said, “and nobody blames you for that. Ron was the smartest choice. I only offered to do it because I figured that Ron would be a better second than me at the Final Battle.”

“But you would have died,” I said again.

“It would have been worth it,” she declared. “As it was, we were lucky we were able to get out right after you cast the curse. If we had to stay and fight, we would have gone down along with the others.”

“Don’t say that, Hermione,” I said gently, turning to face her. Her gaze remained focused on something that didn’t exist on the other side of the room. “Everything worked out according to plan. Voldemort is dead, we’re all alive, and the wizarding world is rebuilding itself.”

“We lost Ron,” she said quietly. “He may as well be dead, Harry. We haven’t heard from him in almost a year. You don’t just go from talking to someone every day for seven years to _nothing_. I’m beginning to forget what he looks like.”

“He’s got a lot going on. Ginny said he’s really busy -“

“That’s a load of bullocks,” Hermione said fiercely. “He’s purposely avoiding us.”

“Ginny said he was fine with us being together!” I exploded, pounding my fist on the mattress for emphasis. “He told her that it would’ve never worked out between you two anyway!”

For the first time in months, Hermione actually laughed.

“No, no it wouldn’t,” she agreed, wiping her eyes. “Because you wouldn’t have been there to keep the peace.”

I opened my mouth to comment, but she went on.

“We’re like a tripod, you know? It needs three ends to stand up straight and work properly. I’m the brains, Ron’s the strength, and you’re the determination. I’m the thinker, Ron’s the dreamer, and you’re the fighter. I teach you things, Ron makes us laugh, and you keep the peace.”

“You’ve really thought this out, haven’t you?”

She sighed. “Every day since I was eleven.”

“And this is why we’re so miserable together, you and me.” I cupped her chin and forced her to look at me. “Ron’s not here to make us laugh.”

She started to look away, but I jerked her head back. She looked at me for a minute, blinked, and closed her eyes.

“Why can’t you look at me?” I asked gently.

“I look at you and I see him.”

I enveloped her in my arms and buried my head in her hair. Fighting back tears, I said, “I know what you mean.”

The very next day, we received an owl from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. I remember reading the elegant-looking letter and going numb, grateful for the chair nearby. Hermione snatched it from my hands and went pale as she read.

Harry J. Potter,

You and a guest are cordially invited to witness the marital union of

Ronald Bilius Weasley

and

Luna Lucille Lovegood

Date: 4th July 2000  
Time: 3pm  
Place: The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole 

Dress robes required

“I wasn’t even invited,” said Hermione dejectedly, slumping into the closest chair. She clutched the invitation tightly in her hands as she looked longingly at the loopy letters.

“They probably figured I’d take you,” I said. “I’m sure they didn’t mean – ow!”

I turned to face the owl that was persistently nipping at my shoulder. I saw another parcel tied to his leg and retrieved it quickly, expecting the owl to fly away. The Weasleys had finally retired Errol, and this was his successor. Apparently he was under strict instructions not to return without a response, because he kept nudging my head to read the letter.

“All right, all right!” I said loudly, and began to read out loud.

Harry,

I know we haven’t spoken for awhile, and this is partially my fault. As Ginny has no doubt told you, I have been quite busy. Luna is a tough girl to keep up with! Imagine studying for the N.E.W.T.s on the top of a mountain in Switzerland while her father hunts for some endangered magical creature that I can’t even spell. The entire year has been like this, jetting away almost every weekend to some foreign country. It’s almost surreal. We spent the summer traveling across America – those people are mad, did you know? Luna’s dad has offered me a job with the Quibbler once I’m done with school, taking pictures and whatnot. It turns out I’m pretty good at photography. Better than Creevey, I’d reckon.

Anyway, I hope you’re not mad that I didn’t write about Luna before. To be fair, you never told me about you and Hermione, so I guess we’re even now. I’m giving this letter to Mum so she can mail it with your invitation, and hopefully you will forgive me for being distant and be able to come to the wedding. We are assuming you’d be bringing Hermione, but if that is not the case please let me know and I will send her a separate invitation.

I have a big favor to ask of you, Harry. You were my first best friend, and I can’t imagine anyone else as my Best Man. Will you do it, please? Ginny said you’re real busy with Auror training, but I’d think you could get away for a few robe fittings and take the time to put together a speech for the reception. Ginny is Luna’s Maid of Honor, but she agrees with me that she is not the most responsible person in the world, and therefore we would like you and Hermione to hold onto the wedding bands.

Please write back as soon as possible. I think Mum and Dad’s new bird is conditioned to bug you until you give us an answer either way, so I expect to hear from you soon. If you accept, Mum will contact you to schedule your fittings and go over anything else she might have planned for you. I would also like to set up a lunch date with you and Hermione sometime in the near future, just so we can catch up and spend some time together.

I miss you both terribly. I want nothing more than to be friends again, the way we were before. I’ve had almost a year to get over myself and sort out my feelings, and now I don’t even know why I was upset in the first place. I have Luna, you and Hermione have each other, and everything is fine. It will be, anyway, when I see you two again.

Ron

Hermione was standing behind me, her arms wrapped around my neck as she read over my shoulder.

“You’re going to do it, right?” she asked sternly.

“Of course I’m going to do it,” I snapped, flipping the letter over and scrawling a big ‘yes’ on the other side. I rolled up the parchment and tied it to the bird’s leg, and it immediately took off out the window.

I watched the owl fly over the horizon and put my head in my hands. Wordlessly, Hermione crawled into my lap and we held each other for a long while.

Finally, I raised my head to look at her.

“Want to come to the wedding with me?”

“There’s not going to be a wedding,” she said promptly. “Come on, we have work to do.”

And so we tried everything in our power to stop Ron from getting married. Obviously none of it worked, since I’m sitting here watching him fumble with his tie for the millionth time. Most of it was just ideas and speculation which were never acted upon anyway, because despite our intentions, deep down what we really wanted was for Ron to be happy. And if he was happy marrying Luna, then so be it.

However, coming from the man that has been watching him for the past hour, I can definitely state that he is _not_ happy.

> **Part Two – What Might Have Been**

_Try not to think about what might have been_  
`Cause that was then  
And we have taken different roads  
We can’t go back again  
There’s no use giving in  
And there’s no way to know  
What might have been

_~ Little Texas_

Let it never be said that Ginny Weasley is daft. She took one look at me last night when I arrived at the Burrow for the rehearsal dinner and immediately led me outside where she could more or less yell at me without being overheard.

“Don’t you even _think_ about trying to ruin my brother’s wedding, Hermione Granger!” she demanded. “You can’t have them both, you know! You made your decision two years ago! Ron has spent most of that time getting over you, and he’s finally moved on! You will _not_ stand in the way of his happiness with my best friend!”

I had no idea how to respond to that, but it didn’t matter because with a flip of her hair, Ginny turned on her heel and left me outside by myself.

She is glaring at me now as she follows Luna down the aisle, carrying her train. I have yet to say a word, whether it be out of fear for speaking the truth or the possibility that I might break down into tears.

Harry is standing at the altar next to a very nervous-looking Ron. They both look incredibly handsome, or they would if they were actually smiling. I would think that watching his future wife walk down the aisle in beautiful wedding robes would give Ron something to smile about, but apparently I’m wrong.

It’s surprising how much time _doesn’t_ change people. A few months ago, upon seeing Ron for the first time in almost a year, one of my first thoughts was that he looked exactly the same as he had the last time I saw him. Not laid up in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, of course, but when he found out he’d have to repeat seventh year and pitched a fit.

 _That_ is what I miss about Ron. The energy, the feeling, the _fire_. I bet he’s an animal in bed. Too bad I’ll never get to find out.

Ron had arrived at The Three Broomsticks early, so he was already seated and waiting by the time Harry and I got there. He stood to greet us, and suddenly it was like no time had passed – we fell into a three-way hug with big smiles on our faces.

I found that I had even missed Ron’s lack of table manners. It was as though he couldn’t speak properly without some type of food particle in his mouth, and even though it had been awhile, Harry and I still understood him perfectly.

He told us how he got together with Luna and all the trips he had taken with her and her father. He told us about his eighth year at Hogwarts and how he had become quite popular.

Ron was the life that had been missing from Harry’s and my relationship from day one. After less than five minutes in his company, I couldn’t remember ever having felt so happy. One sidelong glance towards Harry told me he was feeling the same. We had both forgotten the definition of true happiness a long time ago.

This was it. The definition of happiness was Harry, Ron, and me. The three of us, together, sitting at The Three Broomsticks catching up on each other’s lives over warm butterbeer.

I cherished those few hours because I had a feeling it would probably be the last. And it was; Ron’s getting married today, and as much as I like Luna as a person, it won’t be the same with her around.

And this is completely my fault.

Harry will argue with me about this until we’re blue in the face, but Ron marrying Luna has nothing to do with some heat-of-the-moment decision Harry made two years ago at the Horcrux site. I don’t care what he says – _I_ was the one who initiated our little rendezvous while waiting to off Voldemort, and _I_ was the one who kept it going afterwards. Because at the time, being with Harry made me forget about Ron.

It’s not that I would have rather been with Ron. That’s what Ginny thinks, anyway, and she’s wrong. I can’t tell her the truth without sounding like a selfish bint, though, so I just let her believe what she wants.

She would hex me to the moon if she knew what Harry and I contemplated doing to stop Ron’s wedding. God, what were we thinking? We were so desperate to have Ron back in our lives that we were willing to go to any lengths to ensure that this wedding did _not_ happen. We seriously discussed everything from kidnapping Ron to charming the rings to repel each other.

Fortunately, we are both cursed with consciences, and none of these disastrous ideas even made it to the parchment. Harry went to his dress robe fittings and I bought something nice to wear, and we even had dinner with Ron and his family a few times. Again, it was like nothing had changed – Mrs. Weasley was still overprotective as ever, Mr. Weasley continued to bug both of us about Muggle gadgets (because we live in a Muggle flat), and the twins poured something in my soup that turned my hair into faux fire. Bill and Fleur were very obviously playing footsies under the table as they gazed adoringly into each other’s eyes, and Ron and Luna were watching them and laughing.

“Hey now, little brother,” said Bill, not even bothering to look away from his wife as he pointed a finger at Ron. “Soon you’ll be acting this way with your woman, and we can all make fun of you.”

“Unlikely,” said Ron, and Luna giggled. They proceeded to imitate the other couple mockingly, going as far as to feed each other. Well, they tried to, anyway, since most of it ended up on their fronts.

Bill conveniently ignored them and turned his attention to Harry and me. “What about you two? You’ve been together for what, two years?”

“Sometimes Hermione kicks me under the table,” said Harry playfully, earning a laugh from everyone.

“She should kick you in the head,” said Fred. “Two years and you haven’t asked her to marry you? What’s wrong with you, man? If you don’t want her, I can think of a _highly_ successful entrepreneur who would _love_ to spoil her rotten.”

Fred wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at me and I giggled hysterically. Harry shot me a dirty look, but he was smiling. Ron choked on his juice and Luna immediately patted him on the back.

“Better watch out now,” said Bill lightly to Harry. “We have to keep a tight hold on our women around here, or Fred will try to steal them away!”

Harry’s arm slinked loosely around my waist, and I had to fight to not give into the sudden pain my heart felt. Ron would have latched onto me for dear life and maybe even given his brother a right beating for even joking about it. There’s that _passion_ again that I yearned for so badly.

With Harry – and I’ve told him this – it just isn’t enough. In our day-to-day lives _and_ in the bedroom. Our lives are almost mechanical: get up, go to work or school, come home, eat dinner, have sex, and go to sleep. I chose to attend a Muggle University after Hogwarts to study politics, just because it’s something I’m interested in that isn’t taught in the wizarding world. That’s the main reason we live in a Muggle flat. Harry is going into his second year of Auror training, and if any Muggles ask, he works for the government and doesn’t have authorization to talk about it.

Harry’s inheritance takes care of all of our bills, and would probably continue to do so for the rest of our lives if we were so inclined. We’re not, though, and when I’m done with school I intend on working at the Ministry of Magic in an attempt to put some of my education to use.

We lease a three-bedroom flat, which is kind of odd considering there are only two of us and we’re together. Neither one of us thought about it at the time; in fact, when we were first looking, both of us were scouring out three-bedrooms before it even clicked in our heads that we didn’t need that much space.

We later agreed it was our subconscious trying to tell us something.

Our bedroom is, well, our bedroom, and one of the other rooms is set up as an office with a futon bed for when I get lost in my work. The third room was completely empty until a few months ago when Harry and I were finally honest with ourselves. The room is now decorated in orange, with Chudley Cannon’s paraphernalia all over the place, and we call it “Ron’s Room” as though he lives with us. Sadly enough, he’s never seen it, and probably never will.

Harry and I are like robots at home. We go about our business, take care of the cooking and cleaning, make sure the bills get paid on time, and spend our free time reading or watching TV. When Harry leaves in the morning, I automatically press a kiss to his cheek and wish him a good day. When we are out in public, we hold hands or drape our arms around each other. That’s it for intimacy until we go to bed at night. That’s when the lights go off and we forget ourselves, basking in the dreamlike glow for as long as possible before it’s over and bitter reality slaps us in the face.

I’m not going to lie. I fantasize about Ron. That he’s there _with_ us, not there instead of Harry. I think Harry does, too, at least to an extent. Sometimes he will aim a little lower than he is supposed to, but I will let him because it makes him feel good. Once I dared to explore him with my fingers and found a whole new meaning to the term climax. Those are things that boys usually do together, which leads me to believe he’s thinking about Ron whether he realizes it or not.

It’s not just in the bedroom either. That really _would_ make me a selfish bint. What girl doesn’t want to have two men at the same time? But no, even my everyday life feels empty with just Harry and me. It’s as though we’re alone when we’re together. I suppose our hearts are just so big that we need a third person in order to be complete.

That third person is Ron. Hands down. No one else even comes close. Not when we’ve been through everything together. From day one. We were each other’s first friends, and we’ve stuck by each other’s sides for almost nine years. Through the good times and the bad, in sickness and in health, and all that other crap Ron and Luna are about to say to each other.

She’s so pretty, gliding towards the altar as though she’s floating on air. Her hair falls down in blonde waves and the white train of her wedding robes is like a sea of purity. Ginny has stopped glaring at me, falling into her place next to Luna as the service begins.

Ron is still shaking. I’d give anything to be a Legilimens and see what was going on inside of his head. He is not a daft person – he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s marrying Luna because she’s a safe choice. They get along well, have fun together, and feel comfortable around each other. Why not marry her? Especially when the people you love have already gotten together?

I remember talking to Ron while he was in the hospital during our seventh year. It was near Christmas, and Harry was playing Quidditch against Slytherin. Everyone thought I was a bad girlfriend because I wasn’t standing in the cold cheering for Harry, but they were more than likely just upset that our team was awful without Ron as Keeper.

“Shouldn’t you be at the game?” he asked bitterly the minute I stepped into the room. He had only been in the hospital wing for a couple months, but it was enough to reach unhealthy levels of boredom and display extreme jealousy for anyone who could actually get out of bed and do something.

“I’d rather spend some time with you,” I said crisply. “Do you mind?”

He grinned and patted a spot on his mattress. “Not at all.”

I sat and made myself comfortable, grabbing one of his hands in both of mine.

“Better not let Harry see you doing that,” he joked.

I rolled my eyes and smirked. “We’ve had this discussion. You’re the exception to the affection rule.”

“Does this rule work both ways?” he asked, cocking his head thoughtfully. “Should I expect Harry to hold my hand, too?”

“Wouldn’t bother me in the slightest,” I said with a wink.

He gave me a playful push and we shared a chuckle.

“Are they letting you go home for Christmas?” I asked quietly.

“Nope. Mum and Dad are going to come here, though. Along with Bill and Fleur. Obviously, Ginny is going to stay too. McGonagall says she won’t allow the twins to step foot in this school, but they think they can change her mind with one of their new inventions – something especially made for _women_.”

“I don’t want to know,” I said, laughing.

“It won’t be too bad,” Ron went on with a sigh. “Madam Pomfrey said we can put up a tree, and it’s not like anyone else will be staying over Christmas, so we’ll have pretty much the whole hospital wing to ourselves.”

“If I could get out of spending the holidays with my parents, you know I’d stay too,” I said earnestly.

“Yeah, I know,” said Ron. “You barely got to see them over the summer, and after this year you’ll be on your own. I wish Harry would stay, though, but I understand your parents want to get to know him.”

“They’re looking forward to it,” I said with a smile. “My father said something about getting the shotgun ready.”

Ron laughed out loud and clutched his side.

“Ow, that hurts,” he whined.

“Baby,” I said playfully. “Did they say when you’d be strong enough to get out of here?”

“At the rate I’m going, it will probably be awhile,” he said wistfully. “Madam Pomfrey said it will take me a long time to regain all of my energy back, maybe even years. Guess professional Quidditch isn’t in my future.”

“That’s a shame,” I said. “I’m sure you can find something to do that doesn’t require too much energy.”

“Yeah, McGonagall said I could cover the games for the _Prophet_ or something. Maybe take pictures.”

“Like a sports reporter? That would be fun. You’d get to travel and the paper would pay for it, and you could spend the off season at home.”

“That does sound like fun,” he agreed. “Better than a stuffy desk job at the Ministry, which is one of my other options.”

“Yeah, I can’t see you sitting down for that long,” I teased.

“What about you?” he asked. “I know Harry is going into Auror training, but what are you going to do?”

“I think I might keep going to school,” I said.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” He smiled. “Our little Hermione, eager to learn.”

I slapped his wrist lightly, but I was smiling. In fact, him calling me ‘our Hermione’ gave me a certain warmth in my belly that I wasn’t ready to decipher yet.

We stayed silent for awhile as I traced random patterns on the palm of his hand with my nails.

“So are you and Harry still going to rebuild Godric’s Hollow?”

The question jerked me out of my relaxed state and I turned to give him an odd look. “Why do you say it like that? I thought we were all going to work on it together.”

“Well, with you and Harry being an item now, I would just get in the way.”

“Oh honestly, Ron,” I scoffed. “The property is big enough to build a house where all three of us could have our own separate wings.”

“But still,” Ron protested.

“But still nothing,” I said sternly. “Just because Harry and I are ‘an item’ doesn’t mean we don’t want you in our lives. We started this together, the three of us, and we’re going to end it together. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Ron teasingly.

Obviously, things didn’t work out that way. Ron disappeared after our seventh year and Harry and I decided to take our time putting together the plans on Godric’s Hollow since we’d be in the Muggle flat while I was in school. In fact, we haven’t even looked at the plans for a long while now since it was apparent that Ron wasn’t going to be living with us.

Ron tries for a smile as Luna steps up to the altar, but I can see he’s not fooling anyone. Harry’s eyes are boring into mine as though he’s trying to relay me a mental message, but to no avail. I wonder what he’s thinking, then realize it’s probably the same thing I am. We are officially losing Ron today, and what makes everything worse is that I honestly don’t think he wants to be lost.

If only he would let Harry and me find him.

> **Part Three – Behind Blue Eyes**

_But my dreams, they are as empty_  
As my conscience seems to be  
I have hours  
Only lonely  
My love is vengeance  
That’s never free

_~ The Who_

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…”

I have no idea how I am still standing up. I am light-headed, numb, and shaky; my knees feel like they’re going to give out and cause me to crumple on the floor in front of my entire family, friends, and people I have never met in my life.

What the hell am I doing?

I’m getting married.

I’m getting married _now_.

Luna stands across from me, smiling brightly as though this is the happiest day of her life. I suppose it is, but those of us who know Luna know that _every_ day is the happiest day in her life whether she’s getting married or not. Luna is by default a happy person. That’s the main reason I’m marrying her.

Life with Luna is easy. I tag along on her escapades with her father and get away from the real world for awhile. Luna’s world is simple – have fun, embrace life, and smile a lot. When I’m with her, I’m in her world. I forget about Death Eaters, my brother, my seventh year (both of them), and most of all, I forget about Harry and Hermione.

Denial is a beautiful thing.

I feel like a right arse, because I wasn’t even going to invite them to the wedding. I almost got away with it, too, until Mum looked over the guest list and demanded to know why they weren’t on it.

I had no answer. So I lied and said I thought it was obvious that they would be invited. Then I rushed to write a letter so that they would understand why I hadn’t owled them for almost a year. The letter was full of lies.

The part about traveling with Luna and her father was true. The part about working for the Quibbler was true also. In fact, thinking about it now, only the last paragraph was a complete, blatant lie.

Everything is _not_ fine. How can it be, when Harry and Hermione are together? Ginny didn’t even believe me when I tried to tell her I wasn’t upset about that, but then again, she thinks it’s because I’m in love with Hermione. Which is half-true.

I look at Hermione, who is sitting with my family as though she is a part of it. I suppose she is, given our history, but not in the way I’d like her to be. Her face is studious, her gaze fixed somewhere between Luna and me. She could be looking at my father, who insisted on being the Ministry official assigned to wed us (I wouldn’t have it any other way), but somehow I doubt that his wedding speech is that interesting.

I can feel Harry behind me, even though he’s a good few feet away. He wasn’t my first choice for Best Man, although in reality he was the only one. I could have used any of my remaining brothers, but I knew somewhere deep inside me that Harry was the only one I wanted standing here with me as I make the biggest mistake of my life.

I may be a little slow at times, but I’m not completely thick. I know exactly why I’m marrying Luna. It’s not just because I love her, because I do, in a way, but because now I can spend the rest of my life living in her world. An eternity where I can be happy, have a good time, and accept Harry and Hermione together.

Of course, there’s the part of me that continuously nags at me to tell them how I feel. Even if nothing results from it, I’d be able to get married and enjoy my blissful oblivion without that thought weighing down my brain.

It’s too late for that now. The service has started; Luna’s grasping my hands in hers and I know that mine are clammy and cold. She looks at me, her eyes positively dancing, and my heart aches because I know that by going through with this, I am hurting her. She deserves better than me, yet she chose me.

Last summer, after I was finally released from the hospital wing and found out I’d have to repeat my seventh year, Luna came to visit Ginny at the Burrow. It was only for a few days, since she was going to America with her father for most of the holidays.

The three of us hung out together a lot, mostly out of boredom. The twins had since moved out and Bill and Fleur had their own place. They came around often, but not enough to keep three teenagers entertained. Ginny was originally going to go with Luna and her father, but she had backed out before the end of the school year when she started dating Colin Creevey.

“It will be dreadfully boring with just my father and me,” Luna said in her airy voice as we lounged by the pond. “Would you like to come, Ronald?”

“Sure,” I replied before my brain had even processed the information.

I didn’t think of her as more than a friend at that point. To me, my summer was going to be spent doing absolutely nothing except the exercises Madam Pomfrey had assigned me to help build up my strength. It would never be full par, and I couldn’t do anything excessively active like play Quidditch or duel, but I suppose it was better than being dead.

I know Harry kicks himself in the arse for choosing me to drink the potion at the Horcrux site. I may have resented him at first, mostly while I was cooped up in the hospital wing without any form of entertainment, but I understood that it was the best decision given the situation. If Hermione had drunk that potion, she probably would have died. If Harry would have drunk that potion, he would have been too weak to battle Voldemort.

I have no regrets about drinking the potion. I may have had to spend almost the entire year in the hospital wing and finish my schooling a year late, but in my mind, it was worth it. The only thing that I regret is not being there at the Final Battle, standing by Harry’s side along with Hermione as he cast the killing curse.

For the past year, I’ve wondered if what happened between Harry and Hermione during those three days would have still happened had I been there. Or if Hermione had been the one to drink the potion and remain at Hogwarts, and it was just Harry and me. Harry said most of it had to do with the fear that they may not make it out alive, and they didn’t want to die virgins. Which makes sense, I suppose. But would it have been the same if it was just me and Harry? What about all three of us?

There I go, wracking my brain with ‘what ifs’ again. Luna’s in the middle of saying her _vows_ for fuck’s sake. Do I have no self-control?

Not when it comes to Harry and Hermione, apparently.

I had to find out from McGonagall of all people. She came to help me with the practical part of Transfigurations when it was early enough that we all thought I’d still be able to take my N.E.W.T.s. Harry and Hermione had spent nearly all of their free time with me in an attempt to keep me caught up, but this particular spell was quite complex and McGonagall insisted that she be the one to teach it to me.

It also required a lot of strength, which obviously I did not have at the time. After three hours and five energy potions from Madam Pomfrey, we called it a day and as McGonagall went to leave, she called out to me over her shoulder.

“You should feel very privileged that Mr. Potter and Miss Granger feel so strongly about your education. As a couple, there are certainly a multitude of other activities they could be doing instead. It would be in your best interest to at least try to cooperate with them instead of moping around all the time.”

I should have felt bad, because I really wasn’t trying my best at keeping up with my schoolwork, but only one line stood out to me at the time:

_As a couple, there are certainly a multitude of other activities they could be doing instead._

Harry and Hermione – a couple? When did this happen?

Always up-to-date on the current gossip floating around Hogwarts, Ginny filled me in. Along with her humble opinion on the entire matter.

“Hermione is a slag. She could have waited for you to get out of the hospital wing, but instead she went to Harry. Forget about her, Ron – anyone who chooses your best mate over you isn’t worth pining over.”

Of course, she had some choice words about Harry too.

“How _dare_ he! He could have told her no, that he was your best friend and that would be just _wrong_! But no, he had to go and take away the one girl who you felt was worthy of your affection. He betrayed you, Ron; they both did.”

I’m not blaming my year of avoidance on Ginny, but I will admit that she played a large part in my lack of contact with Harry and Hermione. Granted, I really _was_ busy, however, it was completely my choice. I _chose_ to lose myself in Luna’s World of Oblivion, and I liked it there. It was a lot easier not to think about Harry and Hermione when they weren’t there.

They were always there, though, in the back of my mind no matter what I was doing. I would watch the House Quidditch games at Hogwarts (I wasn’t allowed to play) and think of Harry; I would study for the N.E.W.T.s with Luna and Ginny and think of Hermione. I would lie down to go to sleep at night and think of them both.

In a perfect world, I could have them both. I wouldn’t be settling for Luna and the pseudo-happiness she provides. I could be entirely content instead of pretending.

I could be complete: mind, body, and soul.

Hermione is a beautiful woman, but it’s her brain that attracts me. She is so _smart_ and eager to learn even though she already knows everything. There was not a question I could ask that she couldn’t either answer right away or research. To Hermione, everything is factual. Logical, practical, and sensible. Equations and instructions, variables and constants.

Hell, even Hermione should know this isn’t the correct answer. Two halves may not equal a whole in this case, but three wholes certainly equal resolution.

I am an absolute arse for going through with this, speaking my vows to love and cherish Luna while my thoughts are focused on someone else. Two someones, actually, because try as I may to deny it, it’s not just about Hermione. Not at all.

I never used to dream. I’m sure I did, everybody does, but I couldn’t recall them the next day. After mentally eliminating my two best friends from my life, I started dreaming constantly. It was always the three of us; Luna was nowhere to be found, even if she was laying right next to me in reality. Previous events would replay themselves in vivid imagery, as though I was reliving them again through my subconscious. I figured it was just my brain trying to not-so-subtly tell me that I missed my friends and needed to get over myself and see them again.

The dreams changed drastically after I finally spent an afternoon with them a few months ago. Not worse, exactly, but I would wake up in a cold sweat and gasping for breath. These particular dreams seemed to take place in the future, although I’m certain they weren’t a premonition of any sort. They made me want to run away and figure out how to stay awake forever, while at the same time a small part of me wanted to give in to the unexplainable (yet peculiar and somewhat disturbing) sensations.

It’s complicated, really, although it makes perfect sense to me. I’m not gay, but I know I love Harry as much as Hermione. He is the soul, the rock that kept us grounded whenever Hermione would go overboard in her studies or I would overreact and lose my temper. Harry was the first person to see me for who I am instead of just another Weasley. And I’ll never forget our fourth year when I was the ‘thing he would miss most’ in the second task of the Triwizard Competition.

I suppose I’ve always known, I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. Because somehow it just seems _wrong_ , immoral almost, to want to be with another man. With Harry, though, it doesn’t feel like being gay. The things we do in my dreams, I’d never even consider doing them with anyone else. And Hermione is always there with us, to guide us, to bring us back when we go over the edge. She’s there in body as well.

Mind, body, and soul. Completion, resolution, absolution.

In a perfect world, I would be standing here with both of them instead of with Luna. But this is not a perfect world; Harry and Hermione have found the kind of love I wanted with them with each other, and I’m settling.

I finish my vows, and the rings are exchanged. Harry’s eyes linger on mine longer than necessary when placing Luna’s ring in my palm, and I can feel the heat of Hermione’s stare from my section of the audience. As I slip the ring onto Luna’s finger, her eyes are dancing with excitement, but that is all I see. Nothing behind, no intense feelings of love or lust or any of the emotions I just experienced with Harry and Hermione.

This isn’t fair to her. I can’t devote my life to someone when my heart has been split in two, each half belonging to someone _other_ than the woman standing before me. They forgive me, I know they do. They’re here, aren’t they? If only I could read their minds, I’d know for sure whether what I’m about to do is the right decision.

My father clears his throat and glances at me briefly before proceeding.

“If anyone has any reason why these two should not be united in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

> **Part Four – Sacrifice**

_And it’s no sacrifice_  
Just a simple word  
It’s two hearts living  
In two separate worlds  
But it’s no sacrifice  
No sacrifice  
It’s no sacrifice at all

_~ Elton John_

“I object.”

There was a collective gasp throughout the vicinity, followed by deafening silence. Harry, Hermione, and Ron swiveled their heads to look at the one person whom they would have never expected to speak the words that each one of them wanted so desperately to say.

Luna let go of Ron’s hands with a final squeeze and stepped forward, still smiling brightly.

“I’ve decided that I don’t want to get married,” she said cheerfully, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m still young. I want to go traveling with my father and write for _The Quibbler_.”

In the front row, Mr. Lovegood’s shocked face turned up into a proud smile.

Luna turned to Ron and grasped his hands again, slightly bemused at the mixture of emotions on his face.

“Don’t,” she said softly, as Ron opened his mouth to speak. “We both know this is for the best. I am a lot of things, Ronald, but a homewrecker I am not.”

“Homewrecker?” Ron gasped. “What are you talking about? I -“

His words were cut off when Luna cupped his face in her hands.

“You don’t belong with me,” she said. “And far be it for me to meddle in the affairs of Fate. You’ll just have to figure out the truth for yourself.”

“What are you talking about?” Ron said again, starting to panic. “Luna, I love you -“

Luna held up her hand, silencing him once again.

“Be that as it may, there are others you love more. Others you are not allowing yourself to love because you feel that it’s wrong. And it’s not, Ronald. Nothing is wrong when it comes to love. Remember that.”

“You’re not making any sense,” hissed Ron, glancing at the awed crowd and flushing slightly.

“Yet I am.” Luna flashed a brilliant smile. “I must go now. Take care of yourself, Ronald. I wish you the best of happiness, luck, and love, until we meet again.”

After chastely kissing his cheek, she bounced down the aisle, her long train trailing behind her.

Ron remained standing, dumbfounded, as three things happened at once: people began to get up from their seats and leave, muttering things like “Poor Ron” and “… a waste of time”; Mr. Lovegood approached Mr. Weasley and insisted he would still pay for everything and complimented him on the lovely service; and he was immediately enveloped by both Harry and Hermione.

“Ron, we’re so sorry,” Hermione sobbed into his ear as she and Harry held him tightly in a three-way hug.

“I-I don’t understand,” Ron said slowly. He was allowing the other two to hug him, but he wasn’t hugging back.

“What did she say?” asked Harry carefully.

Ron wriggled out of their grasp and stumbled over to the now-vacated wicker chairs. He slumped down into the one formerly occupied by his mother, Harry and Hermione immediately following on either side.

“Something about me belonging with someone else and her being a homewrecker,” he said finally, fidgeting with the buttons on his wedding robes.

Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry, and they both struggled to hide their smiles.

“She said that I love someone else but I’m not letting myself love them because it’s wrong,” Ron continued at a fast pace. “I _know_ that’s not true, because there are _two_ of you -“

He stopped short and clasped both hands over his mouth as his face turned as red as his hair. He tried to get up, but Harry and Hermione each grabbed an arm and held him down.

“We love you too,” they said in unison, relaxing their grasps on his arms to interlace their fingers together.

“What?” said Ron incredulously. “That – that’s impossible. You two are together. You don’t need me -“

“That’s just it, Ron,” said Hermione briskly. “We _do_ need you.”

“We’ve been so empty,” Harry added. “Just the two of us isn’t enough. We need you to complete us.”

Ron, who had been turning his head between Harry and Hermione as they spoke the words that blew his mind, finally settled on looking at Hermione as she nodded and gave him the sliest of smiles.

“But how does that work?” said Ron. “The three of us – I mean, we’d all have to… do stuff.”

“I, for one, am not opposed to any of that,” said Hermione, and to prove her point, she leaned over and kissed Ron full on the lips.

He melted into the kiss at first, but then jumped back as though Hermione’s lips had suddenly caught fire.

“I can’t – Hermione – you’re Harry’s girl.” Ron was on the verge of hyperventilating.

“She’s your girl, too,” said Harry. “She always has been.”

Ron turned to look at Harry. “What about us? Are you going to k-kiss me too?”

“I might,” said Harry with a grin. “Does that bother you?”

“Well, um, I’m not gay,” said Ron defiantly. “And neither are you.”

“You’re right,” agreed Harry. “But I do love you. I love you the way I love Hermione, the way she loves both of us.”

Hermione nodded again, more frantically.

“We’ve wanted to tell you this forever,” she said. “But then you and Luna got engaged, and we thought you were happy -“

“I thought _you_ were happy -” interjected Ron.

Harry burst out laughing, followed by Hermione, and finally Ron, albeit his was a shaky uncomfortable laughter.

“I think we’re overwhelming him,” Hermione said to Harry.

“Yeah,” agreed a familiar voice. “It’s not every day you’re left at the altar by your fiancée and come to terms with your Fate as a result.”

Three heads swiveled yet again to see Luna standing a few feet away in her regular robes, her smile bright enough to light the land for miles.

Ron stood up and gaped at her.

“Luna? How could you have known -?”

Harry and Hermione watched Luna intently, as though they already knew the answer.

“I am a lot of things, Ronald,” she said again. “And an accomplished Legilimens is one of them.”


End file.
